Women of the Opera: Carlotta
by storytellers
Summary: “You are beautiful.” “Then what do you think is wrong with me?” He smirked. “The same that’s wrong with me, I suppose. You’re a little scary.” This is my favorite story for this challenge! Come on, guys, it's worth reading, if only for the pairing.


Disclaimer: I own nothing and I have no money to give you after you sue me.

A/N: This is one of so few Carlotta stories, so why don't you take the time to review? It's so nice to get feedback for your work and I will be really grateful. Thank you.

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_**Softer**_

_**(Third installment in the "Women of the Opera" fan challenge)**_

"**Softer, ****Madam Carlotta, softer." The musical director of the Opera Populair reminded her patiently. **

**Carlotta sighed and put her hands on her hips. **

"**If I sing any softer, M., my voice will not carry to the first row!"**

"**Yes, it will. And this heartbreaking aria will break people's hearts more if it doesn't feel like you're hammering on their heads. Not everything is best done by force, as you well know."**

"**No, indeed. Some people use more subtle tricks to try to break your heart. Softly, as you say. I don't find it pleasanter."**

"**You know such people?"**

"**I used to."**

"**You used to know them or they used to be such people?"**

"**I'll let you be the judge of that, shall I? Here's the story..."**

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It had been decided that _Il Muto_ should be the first premiere for the season. It was supposed to have been _Hannibal_ but the new managers had arrived before rehearsals started and had changed it to something funnier. _Hannibal _would still be staged later in the season but for now they didn't want such a big production on their heads.

No sooner had the paint dried on the sets and the notes had started. _"Christine Daae will play the role of Countess."_

"_Christine Daae will replace Carlotta as the diva this season."_

"_Christine Daae has a naturally beautiful voice and has been taught by a great teacher while Carlotta cannot act and her voice sounds like a distressed crow."_

Apparently, even a handkerchief in which Christine Daae had blown her nose was worth more than the whole opera house, along with the sets and the cast.

Two questions came to Carlotta's mind as she read the offending massages.

Who had written these?

Who on Earth was Christine Daae?!

As it turned out, it was a skinny ballet girl whose facial expression indicated that maybe someone had just hit her over the head with a book of fairytales for children from 1 to 5.

Thankfully, the managers were unimpressed by the notes. A fact which, Carlotta knew, had nothing to do with them preferring her to Christine. They just didn't like a self-proclaimed ghost telling them what to do. But at least she could milk it for what it was worth.

So it was decided she would play the lead and Christine had been cast in the silent part of the page boy. Served her right.

On the night of the gala everything was going fine right up to the point when the Ghost decided to complain before the whole audience that someone had taken his seat. Loudly. Carlotta was determined to ignore him. What was he thinking? That he would frighten her? That was one of the many wrong impressions he had fallen under, along with the idea that his comments were funny…

His complete lack of a sense of humor was confirmed a minute later when it became apparent he had tempered with the mixture she used for her voice.

_Very funny. Very gentlemanly, sir__, _she thought while she tried to continue singing and failed miserably. _So you've made me sound like a donkey and you take pleasure in the fact that the whole cast is laughing their heads off, along with the audience._

Of course, they all hated her. So much that they didn't really care the performance was ruined. She had to wonder, if the Phantom claimed it was his opera, why did he try to sabotage it all the time? It was just stupid.

She was just about to run out of the stage and into Piangi's arms (him at least she could trust not to laugh at her) but she hesitated.

And in a split second, Carlotta decided she wouldn't have it.

She was the diva of this opera; it was her who performed on stage all the time. And what did the Phantom do? Act like a vandal and demand money for it! At least she worked for her salary.

She marched to the very front of the stage. The curtain dropped behind her but she pretended not to notice. To her right the managers who had come down from their box to fashion some excuse for the audience stopped uncertainly – there wasn't enough room for them in front of the curtain, not with her wearing the Monstrously Big Pink Dress.

Carlotta stood there, waiting for everyone to stop laughing. Eventually the noise died out. She smiled at the hall and made a sign to the maestro to start playing. He looked at her as if she were crazy. She looked at him as if she would murder him on the spot if he didn't oblige. Her look obviously won the duel because he raised his hands and the orchestra began from where they had stopped.

_So I cannot act, is that so Mr. Phantom?_

Instead of trying to sing "poor fool he makes me laugh", Carlotta switched to pantomime. Improvising on the spot, she made a few steps in time with the music, cast a haughty look in the direction where her "husband" was supposed to be, waved her hand in dismissal and burst into a fit of silent giggles. It took the audience a minute to realize what she was doing but then they burst into applause. Someone had the brains to reopen the curtain behind her, revealing a very surprised cast who looked like a pack of surprised rabbits for a full minute before coming to their senses and joining in the performance. In the middle of the stage Carlotta continued to silently gesture the song.

_But, Lord, I don't think I can pull off the whole opera like this. _

A few steps behind her, Meg was whispering urgently in Christine's ear.

"Christine, you have to sing her part!"

"But I'm dressed as the page boy!" Christine stated the obvious.

"So sing it as the page boy! Change the words from his point of view. Say… say that your muteness has transferred to her when you kissed!"

Christine gave her a look that clearly stated concern for her mental health.

"Brilliant, that's brilliant!" a chorus member next to them whispered. "Do it before everything goes to the dogs!"

Christine still looked uncertain but she walked up to Carlotta and said:

"My dear Countess, it seems you've accidentally dropped your voice in my mouth when we kissed!"

The audience erupted in appreciative laughter.

Secretly, Carlotta just wanted to pull out the girl's hair curl by curl but on the outside she continued the performance, covering her mouth in shock and raising her fan, seemingly leaning for another kiss.

"Push me away!" she hissed to Christine, who thankfully got the hint.

"No, I'm not giving it back to you, madam." The page boy said, taking a step back.

The audience laughed again.

From then on, the opera continued with Christine singing what Carlotta was supposed to sing but with words slightly changed from the page boy's perspective and Carlotta in the role of Countess gestured as comically as possible without stepping beyond the line of good taste.

Behind the stage everyone stared transfixed. Even Joseph Bouquet had forgotten he'd been tracking the Phantom and was laughing his head off up on the rafters. Carlotta wondered how the Phantom had reacted.

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"**He must have been very impressed."**

"**You think so? Is that your only comment on this story, Maestro?" "My comment is that this story just proves my point, madam. You said you were worried about being heard when it's obvious you don't even need to be heard to capture the audience."**

"**Oh, but I didn't really capture them. Not as much as Miss Daae anyway."**

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At first Carlotta had been shaken but happy after Il Muto had ended.

She had not given the stupid Ghost the pleasure of seeing her run off the stage. She had shown them all she was a professional and a star. She had shown that damned Phantom too. She hoped he had eaten his mask in rage over not being able to ruin her performance completely.

But during the party her mood got progressively worse. True, everyone congratulated her on dealing with the situation as she had but most credit was given to Christine.

"_Thank God she stepped in, how kind of her to help a fellow cast member!"_

"_And how wittily she changed the words!"_

"_And that voice! Did you hear her voice?"_

"_Where did she learn such technique?"_

Finally, Carlotta got tired of hearing Christine's name and retired early with a headache.

When she came out the door of the opera, there was a crowd of admirers there. The first of them tried to send a rose to Miss Daae trough her. That was far too much. Carlotta marched to her carriage without looking at anyone. Maybe some of the men there were still _her_ admirers but she didn't see them. All she could remember was that one gentleman who had completely shattered her last bit of confidence in the audience's love.

She knew her departure would raise more talk behind her back. They would all comment on how jealous she was of the young new star. It would all be true. She longed to tear Christine Daae limb from limb. She couldn't let the little maggot take her place! She was the princess of the opera house, their diva! Why were they all trying to make her feel old and ugly? She was beautiful! And she was definitely not old! She was only thirty-something!

She wouldn't let it happen, she wouldn't! She couldn't accept that it was time to let go of her career, her life, the glamour of being a celebrity… She would fight for it!

She hardly slept that night. And while Carlotta was tossing and turning in her sheets, unknown to her, under the opera house, Christine Daae was being taken to her Angel of Music's secret abode for the first time.

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"**And what happened ****next?"**

**She raised an eyebrow.**

"**I thought you wanted me to continue singing, M."**

"**But now you have gotten me interested, madam. This Phantom seems like a real monster. What man would cause so much distress to an innocent woman? He must have been really evil."**

"**Oh, I wouldn't say evil. More… confused. At least that was my impression when I first met him."**

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Carlotta was furious. Not only had Christine Daae stolen her glory but she seemed to have developed a relationship with the rich new patron of the opera. He had turned out to be a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy who was just young enough to be childishly charming and just old enough to be manly. Not that Carlotta had anything for him but it should be illegal for one girl to be that lucky. What was it about Christine Daae that made every man around fall for her? Well, obviously if she had the Phantom of the Opera wrapped around her finger, what chance did Raoul de Changy stand?

And he was so worried that the Phantom would harm his poor defenseless little Christine (who was probably the only person the Phantom would NOT harm) that he offered to pay for her to stay in an apartment away from the opera house. At first Christine had been reluctant to accept but this morning she had moved out in a hurry. Carlotta could only guess what the reason was. Perhaps she had gotten sick of being the Phantom's pet project. Perhaps they had had an argument. She didn't really care. She had other problems.

Rehearsals for Hannibal had started and she had to deal with people snickering behind her back and demonstratively stuffing their ears with cotton. The incident from the premiere of Il Muto should have been forgotten long ago but the cast's hatred for her was evidently so great that they wouldn't let it go. She could still sometimes hear the chorus girls imitate the sound she had made when her throat had stopped working properly.

Not to mention the Phantom kept trying to drop things on her head. But that happened so often that, at this point, it only served to annoy her. He was obviously not really trying to kill her at the moment or he would have done it already.

Today she was at the end of her patience. Curse Christine Daae and the Ghost! And everyone else for that matter! After a particularly loud fit of giggles while she was trying to sing the aria from act three, she decided she had had enough and left rehearsal threatening anyone who followed her with the wrath of her poodles.

Not that anyone was dying to follow her anyway. Andre and Firmin weren't present and they were the only ones who ever bothered. Piangi knew the difference between when she was asking for attention and when she was best left alone.

She was so angry that she went directly to Christine's now vacant dressing room with the intention of finding some forgotten possession and jumping and dancing on top of it. The ideal thing was lying on the floor in front of the big mirror. A single red rose tied with a black ribbon. From the Phantom, no doubt. Fantastic. She could now express what she felt for both of them.

Five minutes later the rose had been reduced to a reddish spot on the carpet.

It was then that she noticed there was something strange about the mirror. To be more precise, it turned out to be a door which had not been closed properly.

So this was it then? There could be no doubt about where the passage led. And the fact that it was in Christine's room meant that it was probably safe. He wouldn't risk dear precious Christine's life, would he? On the other hand it would be anything but safe once she reached the end of it. Would he kill her? It was foolish to risk it. However, at this particular moment Carlotta was:

1. Curious

2. Furious

3. There were so many things in her hair that he would have had some difficulty lassoing her.

She cautiously stepped into the passage.

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"**Weren't you afraid?"**

"**Oh, yes, I was afraid. But I was more angry. You see, I am Italian. We often let our emotions take the better of us. And I think on some subconscious level I was foolish enough to believe the diva of the opera was too important to get seriously hurt. I don't know why I thought that, it just seemed appropriate. But I did have my worries."**

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_If I fall in the water with this ridiculous costume, I'll sink_, she thought as she navigated the gondola trough the lake, careful not to trip on her own skirt. There was barely enough room for all of it. She was concentrating so hard on controlling the rocking of the boat that she didn't realize she had entered the Phantom's lair until she heard something that sounded suspiciously like _'Christine, Christine, why?'_

_If I hear that name just one more time…, _Carlotta thought before it occurred to her that she was supposed to be panicking.

She had just walked – or sailed – right into the Opera Ghost's home. And he himself was kneeling on the floor some distance away, having an emotional episode.

He wasn't wearing a mask and she grimaced at the sight of the right side of his face which was clearly visible from her position. It didn't look very nice at all. This was probably why he insisted on being such a nuisance to everyone in the opera. Ugly people were often such whiny bastards; she could never understand them…

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"**Wait, you thought ****his face **_**'didn't look very nice'**_**? I thought his face was supposed to be a horrific sight."**

**She shrugged.**

"**And I thought it didn't look very nice at all. That's what I thought. I won't blow his physical disadvantages out of proportion just to make the story interesting."**

"**You are right; I prefer to hear a truthful version. Please, continue."**

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From his ramblings she gathered that the whole tragedy was about Christine leaving him for Raoul after getting scared of him. Madam Carlotta was a selfish creature and it didn't even occur to her to sympathize with someone who could turn around and decide to kill her any moment. So she started trying to move the gondola backwards as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, before she could accomplish anything, he stood up and looked into a mirror and saw her reflection. He whipped around, his hand snapping to cover the right side of his face with lightening speed.

"You!" he hissed. "What are you doing here? How many people have you led in my direction?"

Carlotta, who had shrieked in fright when he had turned to her, now managed to gather her wits and look pointedly around.

He followed her look along the empty cavern's walls. There was quite obviously no one else there, nor could he hear a mob coming his way. The slight swishing of water around the gondola was the only sound.

"There is obviously no one with me, M., unless you are suggesting I am hiding them beneath my skirt." She said in her ridiculous accent. It almost made him wince. When would this woman finally learn to speak French properly?

Carlotta on her part was giving him a less than friendly look. If he expected her to cower before him… She tried to ignore the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest.

"This skirt _is_ big enough to hide a reasonably big mob." He muttered irritably.

Stupid cow! Why had she wandered down here?

They stared at each other for a few moments. He was trying to decide how to get rid of her without killing her. He had never killed a woman and the idea didn't appeal to him. But he sure as hell didn't want to keep her either! Not to mention she had seen him cry for Christine. Maybe he should kill her after all…

"Get off the gondola." He ordered finally.

She gave him a defiant look.

"I don't think so, M. I am leaving and going back up right now."

She tried to turn the boat around but the attempt resulted in her almost falling in the lake. His mocking laughter tickled her temper. She had had enough laughter these days.

She determined that the lake was so shallow here she wouldn't have to worry about drowning. She jumped from the gondola and pushed it backwards, noting that she would have some trouble lifting her now wet skirts. A hand caught her arm in an iron grip. He had joined her in the water.

"Get on shore, madam, or I will have to kill you." The Phantom's low voice hissed in her ear.

Panic gripped her but she spun around to look him in the face. She wondered briefly what had happened to him. Maybe he had accidentally burned himself while attempting a pyrotechnic prank on some former manager.

"You will kill me, M.? You threaten to kill me?" she didn't know what portion of her shaking was from fear and what from rage. "What have I ever done to you? You insult me, you drop stage equipment on me and you ruin my performance! Your little Christine Daae has left you for another man after you have made her a star and all you do is cry for her! But I am to be killed for accidentally existing in close proximity to you! What have I done to deserve death M.?"

She fell silent a little surprised at the complicated sentences she had just constructed in French. In everyday situations she used no more than 20 words. It was enough to complain. But she had evidently picked up a larger vocabulary without even knowing it…

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"**I dare say your French has improved recently."**

"**I still have an accent."**

"**Only when you are not on stage."**

"**Yes, because certain people seem to like it."**

"**It is your trademark. And it can sound rather charming when you are not shouting. And sometimes even when you are."**

"**Thank you. Can we get back to the part when I'm in mortal danger?"**

"**Forgive me, yes. You had just challenged the Phantom of the Opera. In his not-very-nice-looking-face."**

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For about five seconds he looked as if he would strike her. Then he released her and strode away from her, knocking off a chandelier as he passed. He looked both furious and stricken with grief. She had obviously hit a chord mentioning Christine's name.

"Christine Daae is an angel, don't you dare say a word against her!" he told her in a choked voice.

Talking about Christine obviously had a very strong effect on both of them because Carlotta forgot to be afraid.

"An angel? An angel? Yes, that's what silly men like you and the Viscount would think!"

He slowly turned around and gave her a look that was halfway between bitter and mocking.

"Men like me? You think you know men like me, madam? "

"Yes."

"You think it is so simple to decipher my motives or thoughts?"

"Yes, I do!" Carlotta declared determinedly. "You, M., for all your supposed supernatural qualities, are still nothing but a man. How long have you been her teacher?"

"Eleven years."

"Eleven years?!" Carlotta repeated clearly shocked. "You've taught her since she was a little child? And still she runs away from you? I would be the first to say you are not a sympathetic person but I would not stand in your presence for eleven years and _then_ suddenly decide I'm afraid of you."

"You don't seem to be afraid of me at all, madam." He pointed out half-mockingly. "Do you think it's wise?"

"How would being afraid of you be any wiser, M.?"

He decided he didn't have an answer to this.

"Christine had never seen me before the premiere of Il Muto." He said instead. "She had only heard my voice."

"She trusted a voice coming from the wall?" Carlotta's eyes widened incredulously.

That girl's stupidity knew no boundaries. Carlotta herself had lived in the real world long enough to be reluctant to trust any man, even the ones who stood before her in plain sight, let alone a supposed ghost angel or whatever other creature he had decided to call himself.

"I loved her the moment I heard her sing." The Phantom continued quietly, speaking more to himself than her.

"Well, it's no wonder she can sing. She has had plenty of time to learn. And everyone thinks she's just naturally talented."

"She IS naturally talented!" he insisted angrily.

"So you have nothing to do with her being so good?"

"Of course I do, I'm her teacher."

"I wouldn't think it a great achievement to teach someone who is already such a gifted singer as you describe her to be." She spat not without venom in her voice.

It was becoming apparent that her hatred towards Christine seriously overpowered her common sense.

"She probably would have turned everyone's heads even without your help."

He froze, clearly at the end of his patience.

"Leave." He said so icily that it made her take a step back. "Go back to where you came from and don't breathe a word of this encounter. If you tell anyone how to find me, you will die, do you understand madam?"

Within seconds his face was inches from hers. It didn't affect her as much as he thought it would. She was frightened but not terrified and she seemed to be reacting more to his tone of voice and his threats than his physical appearance.

"Do you understand, madam?" he asked again and she nodded getting back in the boat as quickly as possible.

With a little wobbling and much effort to stop the boat from rocking, she was gone. And he went back to being miserable.

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"**Very interesting story. I suppose you never saw him again."**

"**The story isn't over, M. And I did, in fact, see him again. I even went to search for him myself."**

"**No!" he exclaimed incredulously. "What made you do that?"**

"**The same thing that motivated most of my actions at that time. Protecting my famous name."**

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Carlotta suppressed a triumphant little laugh when she saw his expression. She had managed to surprise the Opera Ghost twice in slightly over a week. He had probably expected her to either bring a mob to catch him or just leave him well alone. He had obviously not foreseen her coming back here alone after rehearsal. She was once again dressed in her overdone costume from _Hannibal_. In retrospect, it would have been wiser to get changed. Actually it would have been even wiser not to come at all. After all, the fact that he hadn't killed her didn't mean he wouldn't. But his look was really priceless. The utter astonishment at her nerve, mixed with dread and a hint of confusion…

It was strange how even with the mask there was enough of his face visible to make it very expressive. And of course, the most expressive part were his eyes. Number 11, Carlotta judged, narrowing her own to see the color better in the candlelight. Yes, it was shade of blue number 11 if her memory of the numbering of shades of satin ribbons could be trusted. And it could.

"You did not expect me, M." she stated the obvious.

"I thought I told you to get out of here and not come back!" he shouted angrily, finally gathering his wits.

"No. You never told me not to come back. I suppose you forgot."

"What do you want?" he snapped walking threateningly towards the gondola where she still stood.

"I want to hire you."

He stopped in his tracks.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want you to teach me to sing and I am prepared to pay you a salary twice as big as the former manager gave you."

He gaped at her, then burst into cold laughter. She had expected it but it still sent an unpleasant thrill down her spine.

"You want me to teach you? What on earth makes you think I would ever say yes to such a thing?"

She let her eyes trail along the cave.

"Half of the things here are forgotten sets." She concluded after her inspection, taking care to avoid the word 'stolen'. "But you are obviously not a real ghost so you need food. Roses. Paper. Black ribbons. Paints. And whatever other things men with too much time on their hands need. All of these cost money and I'm sure they cannot always be found so easily here in the opera. You must go out at some point and buy things. Otherwise I have no idea what you've done with all the salaries you've gotten through the years. And…" she slowly got out of the gondola and walked daringly towards him until she was just a step away. "Christine Daae does not want your assistance anymore. I do."

She had known it was a very risky thing to say. His eyes suddenly burst into flame and he struck her, causing her to trip on her skirt and fall to the ground. She didn't waste any time looking helpless, she quickly grabbed a nearby chandelier and pointed it at him. Fortunately, it was unnecessary. He hadn't meant to attack her in the first place, he had just lost it. Now he turned his back to her, trying to calm his temper. She decided to wait for his next move. After a minute he slowly turned around.

"Why?" he asked a little more calmly. "Why do you want me to teach you?"

Carlotta who had just gotten off the floor made a show of dusting her dress. Of course, she did not expect him to apologize but she could still hint that he should. When she was done with the dusting she finally looked at him.

"I want to be a star. An _unquestionable_ star. I want my fame. It is all I have."

"You will never be as good as Christine."

She flinched but at least managed to keep herself from spitting on the ground in a very unladylike manner.

"Then you have nothing to worry about."

"You are completely devoid of any acting talent. You have a powerful voice but the fact that you can blow the audience from their seats doesn't make it appropriate. You are past your prime, madam, face it."

"How dare you! My guess is that I am younger than you, M.!"

"Are you?" he asked mockingly. "It's possible. Then you wear too much make-up."

"As any sensible person does on stage! But that can be amended if you wish. I would wash it off right now if this lake was not so dirty."

"Please, spare me the sight of you without make-up."

"After I have seen you without a mask, M.? I would not be so critical towards others."

He stiffened and his eyes hardened but she cut him off before he could say anything.

"You have a strong hand, M. but the fact that you can strangle me doesn't make it appropriate."

The sentence hung in the air, half a joke and half a dare. He wasn't sure how to respond to her throwing his own words at him. And before he could figure out what to say, she walked towards him again and stopped inches away, looking at him with a strange expression he was not accustomed at seeing on the diva's face.

"You ask why, M.? Because I do not like people laughing at me. Do you know what it is like to hear the snickers all around you? To see people's faces when they are talking about you? Girls like your little angel Christine Daae are lucky. You are right about one thing – she was born in heaven. Girls like her are universally loved and I am sure she cannot understand why it would be hard to be a kind and pleasant person. But you and I both know that not all of us were born with that effortless charm and beauty. Some of us need makeup and masks. It angers me to think how easily she takes from me what I have worked so hard to win – the audience's love. It is everything to me. As everyone keeps reminding me, I am not Christine Daae. But, damn it all, M., I am what I am and I _will_ be loved for it!"

She searched his face for a reaction. He had a somewhat vacant look. He was staring at her and yet he was somewhere else. After a few seconds he seemed to come back to his senses and took a step back.

"40 000 pounds as you promised." He said quietly. "And I cannot guarantee any results."

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"**He agreed?****" the musical director asked, popping an eyebrow. "Some people would say this doesn't sound like The Phantom."**

"**How well do **_**you**_** know the Phantom, M.?"**

**He smirked.**

"**I know a thing or two. But I suppose you know him a lot better."**

**She grinned.**

"**Indeed. Maybe he said yes because he needed the money."**

"**But that couldn't have been the whole reason."**

"**Then what?"**

"**Do you suppose he could have discovered some similarities between the two of you?"**

"**It's possible. Either way, I began taking lessons from him on almost daily basis. On top of the rehearsals it was tiring but I was determined not to miss a single one. It was like a duel at first. He hadn't particularly wanted to teach me so he wasn't trying very hard to be patient with me."**

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"Madam, how many times do I have to tell you?" her irritated tutor shouted, keeping his eyes and hands focused on his playing while his mouth was free to berate her. "Control your voice; don't just throw it out there! It's only been ten minutes and I feel like I have been repeatedly hit over the head with a hammer! I'm surprised bats haven't started falling off the roof of the cave!"

She tried making her voice gentler and more controlled. It had been a bad day. The chorus girls had been particularly annoying, the ballerinas kept getting in her way and, on top of all, Piangi was feeling indisposed and hadn't attended rehearsal. Which meant there had been no one on her side. And it wasn't like her lessons were giving any result, at least not according to her teacher. She was so frustrated she wanted to lie on the ground and bang her fists until someone came to make things right. Unfortunately, that wouldn't help her here. He would probably throw her in the lake if she annoyed him enough. It wasn't fair! She was trying. More than she had tried to do anything in years…

The Phantom shook his head as he banged on the keys of the small organ. Was there any point in this? Would she ever…

_There! _He hadn't expected to hear it but there it was. That unnamed _something _in a singer's voice that made the song go through the listener's heart. He had never imagined he would hear it from Carlotta's lips but there was no mistaking the feeling. For a second his heart had skipped.

Carlotta had stopped paying attention to her singing, too preoccupied with her anger. She was sure he kept telling her how bad she was on purpose. She was ready to bet he hadn't treated precious Christine like that. Otherwise the girl wouldn't have kept rambling about the 'Angel of music'. Ha! She stopped singing, feeling the tears threaten to overflow. Out of frustration more than anything. She didn't want to cry in front of him but... Damn.

It took him a few moments to realize something was wrong. He turned from the organ to stare at her in utter surprise. The diva was crying, silently at first but when she saw he had stopped she burst into full fledged sobs.

At first he thought she was pretending but then he reminded himself she was still a terrible actress.

"Madam," he said trying to speak above the noise "I don't know what's wrong but your singing had just improved before you stopped."

She looked at him in shock.

"I am not saying this to make you feel better." He added.

"I wouldn't – expect anything – of the kind – from you!" she said trough hiccups. "I wouldn't expect – from a man who – hits and threatens – a woman and then – shouts at her for an hour every – day that she is – completely talentless – to suddenly try to be kind!"

He opened his mouth to answer, then closed it and sighed getting up and walking a few steps to stand in front of her.

"Madam… I would like to know what has upset you so much."

"It doesn't matter."

"If it was my words, I'm sorry but frankly, I didn't think they would mean much to you. And, most of all… I apologize for losing my temper with you and hitting you during our second meeting. To be honest, I was astonished that you still wanted me to be your tutor afterwards. I thought you would find something like that unforgivable."

She laughed trough her tears.

"M., I am Italian. We are temperamental people. We shout and hit each other all the time. However… never do it again!" she warned.

He allowed himself a smile.

"I give you my word. Shall we continue then? You were doing very well. Especially right before you started crying. I think what you need is more emotion."

_Emotion_, she thought. She had a rule about emotion. A lot on the outside, very little on the inside. She could shout and make a scene and overact but feel nothing. He wanted her to do just the opposite. _Less on the outside, more on the inside?_

The idea scared her but she was the one who had gotten herself into this. She wanted to be as good as Christine Daae. And she wanted to make everyone acknowledge that. Even the damned Angel of Music himself.

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"**Unfortunately, I was a little too determined for my own good. The dungeons were damp and cold and I never had the time to change ****into something warmer because I was sure he would make a scene if I was late. I was afraid he would use any excuse to stop our lessons. Of course, it all ended in me getting sick."**

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Something was irritating him but it took some time to realize what.

It was Carlotta or more accurately, her absence. He had grown accustomed to his lessons with her. And although he kept saying he would have preferred Christine being there, this sudden disappearance was an unpleasant break from the habit. What could have stopped her from coming? Earlier he would have thought she had just decided to skip the lesson. But she had been adamantly persistent so far. He had watched one of the last rehearsals and she hadn't done badly at all. Her performance was passable if not perfect.

He would have to find madam Giry and learn what was wrong. Just out of curiosity.

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As it turned out, Carlotta was home ill. When he thought of it, he did remember her complaining that the climate in the dungeons didn't agree with her. But after he had suggested that she should leave if it was such trouble, she had never mentioned it again.

She didn't come to rehearsal the next day. Or the day after that. Soon it became apparent that the diva might not return in time for the premiere. Eventually the managers called Christine Daae to cover for her. Despite Viscount de Changy's protests, she agreed because she missed the opera and she wasn't about to pass on a principal part.

It was exactly as Raoul had feared – as soon as she was back in the opera house she fell once again under the spell of her Angel of Music. Who, to tell the truth, was beside himself with joy at getting back his precious pupil. Her voice sounded more beautifully than ever and she followed all of his instructions accurately. He realized he had forgotten what it was like to teach someone so obedient.

When the premiere came, Christine Daae's performance was perfection itself. The Phantom watched from his seat in box 5. A seat, which, he remembered reluctantly, had been secured for him by Carlotta. She had convinced the managers to leave box five alone. Her reasoning had been that if she left they would lose a lot more money refunding a full house than they would gain from selling tickets for a single box. They hadn't understood why she would want to oblige the Phantom but it didn't matter.

He settled more comfortably in his seat. No thoughts of Carlotta could spoil his joy and pride at hearing Christine sing that night. There was no doubt which one was the better diva. Not to mention how beautiful she looked in her costume.

Although, if Carlotta stopped splashing herself with makeup and wearing pink dresses that clashed horribly with her red curls…

Anyway, tonight he would celebrate with his angel and maybe in the candlelight of his cave…

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"**He might have thought of sending you flowers at the very least!"**

"**Well, I won't disagree. It would have been appropriate. But his mind was on completely different things, as you might have gathered."**

"**And that girl, Christine, did she at least return his affections?"**

"**Not in the way he hoped, I'm afraid."**

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Christine had left her dressing room immediately after the show. By the time he reached it all he could find was a note on the dresser.

_Master,_

_I cannot express how grateful I am for your guidance! Tonight is more your triumph than my own for I would never have been anything without you. I hope you are satisfied with me. Forgive me for not being there myself to congratulate you but I am going home with my fiancée. I have put him through quite enough lately and he deserves my undivided attention now. _

_I remain your grateful student,_

_Christine_

The Phantom crumpled the note in his fist. How could she do this to him? Suddenly he felt like he was walking the thin line between breaking down into sobs and killing someone. Or he could do both. She had gone away with that insolent boy! The young Viscount had taken her from him a second time and just when it had seemed certain that she would succumb! Where were they now? What were they doing? He had to find out and maybe there was a way if he wasn't too late.

He quickly climbed to the roof of the opera house. Yes, there it was. The Viscount's coach was moving through the streets not far from the opera itself. It was still close enough that its route could be followed from above. The Phantom watched intently as it stopped only a few blocks away. He memorized the place and the route to it. He watched as Christine's delicate figure got out of the carriage, followed by Raoul. He went in with her.

The Phantom gritted his teeth. The boy had to die.

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"**You don't mean to tell me he murdered the girl's lover just because she didn't ****return his feelings!"**

"**Love will make you do foolish things, M., don't you agree? Especially unrequited love."**

"**He was a fool to think a murder would solve his problem."**

"**I don't believe he was thinking at all. Maybe he imagined himself as a character from an opera. People kill out of passion all the time in operas and that's where he had taken his social education from."**

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Whoever noticed the dark shadow slipping through the narrow streets of Paris that night recoiled in fear. The man (or the creature because no normal man could move so silently) emanated an aura of vengeance and hate. When he reached his goal – a tall newly repainted building – he quickly climbed to the terrace on the second floor. His black cape trailed behind him and his white mask glinted in the moonlight. Tonight he was Death itself.

But when he looked inside through the window, all of his resolution seemed to evaporate. Christine, his Christine was sitting in front of a large fireplace, drinking champagne with her fiancée and she was laughing like he had never seen her laugh before. He hesitated. As jealous as the sight made him, he could not bear to wipe the smile from her face. If he walked in there and killed her lover now, she might turn away from him forever. He didn't have the heart to drag her to the dungeons by force. That was not what he had worked for for so many years. He would have to make her choose him.

He stood there, uncertain what to do when a carriage passed on the street below. He glanced at it distracted and recognized it at once by the excess of golden decoration. It was Carlotta's carriage.

Interesting. Where would the diva be going so late at night when she was supposed to be ill at home? The question tickled his curiosity.

Maybe tonight was not the night for fateful decisions. With a final glance at the couple on the other side of the glass, he quickly followed the carriage, moving through the rooftops of the city.

To his surprise, when it finally stopped, it was not Carlotta who came out of it. It was a man carrying a black bag which looked very much like a doctor's bag…. because that was exactly what it was.

"In here, Dr., hurry up!"

One of Carlotta's maids who had met him at the door ushered him in. "Madam is not herself, we think she has gone crazy!"

Neither of them noticed the masked figure on the roof of the neighboring house. The shadow waited until they came out again and when the carriage left with the doctor and the maid disappeared into the house, he climbed to the only lit window on the second floor. It was open.

The Phantom looked inside.

The light was somewhat dim. It came from several candles around the room. The floor was littered with attributes of clothing which, on closer inspection, he recognized as costumes from various operas. In combination with the eerie candlelight, they reminded him a little of his lair.

Why had Carlotta kept the costumes? She must have bought them from the various theatres she had sung in after the performances had run their course. But why?

A small noise directed his attention to the bed in the corner. There the diva was, lying on the bed and crying quietly. She didn't seem to notice him but that might have been the result of whatever the doctor had given her to calm her. She was dressed as Carmen and she was cuddling both of her poodles.

"Madam?"

A sniffle and she looked up. She stared at him questioningly but she didn't seem to care much about him being in her room in the middle of the night.

Unexpectedly, he felt for her. She was obviously not feeling well and missing the premiere must have been a huge blow. He looked back on their lessons and remembered how determined she had been to outshine Christine and prove her worth. And she had made some progress. Slowly but surely. Towards the end he had even started to feel enthusiastic about the whole deal. If Carlotta hadn't disappeared and Christine hadn't returned…

He walked to the bed and sat on the edge. Her eyes followed him and she finally seemed to conclude he wasn't a hallucination.

"What are you doing here?" she mumbled.

"I…"

It occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing there. Instead of answering, he gestured at the costumes on the floor.

"You have played all of these parts?"

"I was good." She whispered. "Really, I was!"

"I believe you, madam."

"My name is Carlotta."

He hesitated.

"Very well. My name is Erik."

She nodded and smiled than looked up at him with watery eyes.

"How good was she?"

"She was… perfect." He admitted. "But…" he added quickly upon seeing the look on her face.

It was heartbreaking. It shouldn't be so important that a young girl was a better singer. But it obviously was to her and that left him searching for the right words to fill the space after the 'but'. When had he grown to care for Carlotta? Was he growing soft? Maybe it was the fact that they always seemed to end up together at the worst possible time. They seemed to be drawn to each other when they were most miserable.

"But…" he began again "…that only means we will have to work a lot harder if we want to get you to her level. And it might be better if we didn't do that in the dungeons. I will have to secure a rehearsal room. Are you willing to continue, Carlotta?"

Her green eyes had become so wide that they glistened in the dim light. She nodded.

A week later she was feeling better and she asked to be driven to the Opera Populaire.

When the carriage stopped in front of the building, for about two minutes she felt an overwhelming desire to go back home. But she quickly pulled herself together. For once, it was certain she was not unwanted. No matter what anyone said, this was the Phantom's opera, and he had invited her himself.

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"**Hmm… I see what you mean now, madam. He couldn't have been that evil."**

"**He wasn't. As it turned out, he had the potential of being a very good friend once you got to know him."**

"**You became friends?"**

"**Well… of sorts."**

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Erik was a very confused man these days. He had probably been confused all his life but now for the first time he knew it. Somewhere between listening to Christine's voice during the performances of Hannibal and teaching Carlotta the rest of the time he suspected he had started to lose his nonexistent sanity. He had spent so many years preparing for the moment when Christine would willingly step into the darkness with him that it had come as a complete surprise when Carlotta had appeared and in a few months managed to drag (kicking and screaming) _him_ into the _light_. And although he wasn't an expert he was getting the feeling that she had started to… like him. As a man. Believe that if you will.

She had not lied on their first meeting when she had said she saw nothing but a man in him. And he was also beginning to see a woman.

But what about Christine? He was deeply in love with her, he had always been. Then in what category did that leave Carlotta? A friend?

He was now sitting in a small rehearsal room, which had been granted by the managers as a result of his and Carlotta's joint efforts in blackmailing them. It wasn't long before Carlotta herself walked in, dressed outrageously as ever. He suspected she did it on purpose just to irritate him. He had noticed her wearing far more sensible colors lately but never when she was with him.

"Any news I don't know of?" he asked.

"Well…" she began, "your little angel is getting married in January." She said nonchalantly, watching him from the corner of her eye to see his reaction.

Predictably, his face darkened and he automatically assumed what she called his _'I am miserable and alone but very handsomely so'_ pose.

She rolled her eyes. Her hatred towards Christine Daae seemed to be aging like good wine, just getting better with time. She had gotten used to the fact that he was madly in love with the little brat. The irritating thing was that she couldn't remember anyone falling that madly in love with _her_. She was far too independent to be somebody's doll on a pedestal.

"I thought they would wait for spring but apparently they're unable to contain their passion for that long." She commented.

He looked at her with tired accusation.

For some reason, she drew sadistic pleasure from commenting on Christine's relationship in front of Erik. He had stopped getting angry at some point but he was still getting upset and she just wished he would quit pining. It was clear as daylight that Viscount de Changy had won the girl's heart and nothing would change that fact.

"It's this face." He said darkly. "This face, the infection which poisons our love…"

"Oh, damn it, Erik… When will you finally get it into your thick head that your face has nothing to do with it? I think it's time you faced certain facts. People have flaws. I'm talentless and you're ugly. Neither of those is the reason why people hate us. They hate us because we have always had only ourselves to depend on and that has made us… a little evil. This stupid mask isn't helping, it just makes you look less like a human being. In fact, I hate it."

He snorted.

"Well, I hate that dress but I don't suppose that will make you take it off."

She stared at him for a few moments and then started undoing the buttons of her dress. She had no idea what made her do it but her main reasoning seemed to be along the lines of 'why the hell not?'.

And she didn't stop at the dress either. He gaped at her, caught completely off guard and unable to react until the last piece of clothing dropped on the floor. Then he slowly reached and removed his mask. She smirked.

"Fair enough."

Erik cleared his throat.

"Just to clarify, I don't think you're talentless."

"I don't think you're ugly."

"I don't think we should be doing this."

He didn't sound convincing. She played with one of her bright red curls.

"I can't think of a reason not to. Can you?"

"Piangi?"

She shrugged and went to sit by the window, absently watching the snow outside.

"He wouldn't really care. We're together because he likes being with the diva and he's the only one who can stand me. And _I know_ about your pure and romantic love for Christine. But this… doesn't have to be pure and it doesn't have to be romantic. And it doesn't have to be love."

"I didn't know you were so cynical."

"And I'm surprised you of all people are so romantic. I guess that's what you get from learning about relationships trough opera librettos. Things are not like that in real life, Erik. If you don't aim that high you get a smaller prize but you don't fall so hard either. And the great love you imagine… I suppose it's possible but it happens by chance. You can't spend your whole life planning it because you'll just forget to live. And then when it comes, you might not be ready for it. You know what I think? If I tell you, you will probably get mad."

"When has that ever stopped you?"

She grinned from her seat by the window.

"Indeed. Have you ever stopped to think how much energy it took you to get to know Christine, teach her, plan your meetings with her, dream of her… I think that if you had spent as much effort on getting out of those dungeons and getting a decent life, she might have fallen in love with you on her own.

It's too tiring to love someone who is unhappy. And love is ultimately a very egoistic feeling. At least happy love is. And unhappy love is just an excuse for people who don't want to make some real effort for their own happiness. So if you think I'm cynical, cynical is the smarter way to be. What else am I supposed to do? I don't believe anyone has ever been in love with me, not like that… Do you think I'm beautiful?" she asked unexpectedly.

He looked up from the piano keys he had been studying for the last few minutes. He had temporarily forgotten he was having a philosophical discussion with a naked woman. He wondered why it didn't seem unnatural.

She was beautiful, of course. She wouldn't have gathered so many admirers if she wasn't. It was not the same beauty as Christine's but it was beauty nonetheless. Christine's appearance spoke of anything but power while, at least at the moment, Carlotta looked like a queen. And queens were those who ruled while princesses waited to be rescued from towers. The queen didn't need a knight to rescue her. But he was getting the impression that she wanted one from time to time.

"You _are_ beautiful."

"Then what do you think is wrong with me?"

He smirked.

"The same that's wrong with me, I suppose. You're a little scary."

Her smile became playful again.

"Are you scared?"

He shook his head, taking a step towards her.

"I think the astonishing thing about us is that neither of us is scared of the other. I don't think it will lead anywhere but it's a start."

"I'm fine with that."

And she really was, right until the moment she realized she wanted more.

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"**You fell in love with the Phantom of the Opera?"**

"**It isn't surprising, really. He was a charming man."**

"**He was?"**

"**Yes. Whenever he was not handing death threats left and right. He might have been a very decent gentleman if not for his unfortunate childhood. That thought led me to an act I rarely committed under normal circumstances. The act of doing someone else a favor."**

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"You are a complete coward!" Carlotta declared putting her hands on her hips. "You think you will get a better proposal than this? You know how hard it was to convince the managers to pay you a salary? The only condition is that instead of paying you to do nothing they want to pay you to do something."

"It will mean getting out in public."

"Yes, that's exactly what it will mean! I don't see what the problem is. Here, take the letter."

He took it but didn't even open it.

"I'm wanted for murder."

"A murder that happened 30 years ago and the only actual living witness is your trustee Mme Giry? Forget it, Erik; no one will bother digging up that story."

"I don't want anyone seeing my face."

"I'm looking at your face right now."

"It's different. I don't want to become a carnival freak again."

"For the love of God, it was a long time ago and you were a child! The world has changed."

"People haven't."

"But their perception of you might change if you stop hiding in the shadows and jumping around corners to scare them! They are only afraid of what they don't know. Let them know you."

"They'll think I'm a monster."

"They think the same about me but I have somehow survived among them."

He laughed and she continued with a hint of sarcasm.

"At least you are more talented than me, maestro. You'll hypnotize them with your voice."

He shook his head.

"You will never forgive me for what I used to say about you, will you."

"Oh, I have forgiven you. I just haven't forgotten."

He lifted her chin with his hand.

"Madam, I am honestly telling you, you are getting very good."

"How good?"

"Almost as good as Christine."

She sighed theatrically but he could tell she was happy with the praise. After all, from his lips that was a huge compliment.

"Will there always be an 'almost'?" she asked.

"That is entirely up to you, Carlotta. For a woman like you, everything is always up to her."

"I could say the same about you. So what about that offer?"

"I have to think about it."

"I won't stop pressing you until you accept."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

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"**Did he accept?"**

**Carlotta**** nodded, a gleeful smile on her lips.**

"**Only a week later. I must have annoyed him to no end."**

**The musical director**** laughed.**

"**No, no, madam. I'm sure you were perfectly charming. And it was clearly for his own good. Did it work out like you had planned?"**

"**Well, maybe not exactly like I had planned."**

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It was just a few days before the New Year Masquerade organized by Firmin and Andre and Erik had dragged her to go shopping with him of all things.

Everything had been going really well in the opera and he was gradually starting to feel comfortable in his new position. It had taken some time and some weird looks from members of the cast that she had had to constantly remind him to ignore but things were finally settling down.

And he had obviously taken her seriously when she had suggested that Christine might have fallen in love with him if he had a normal life. He seemed to think that now that he was out in the open and working as a regular gentleman, he might have a chance at winning her heart. The worst part was, he might actually be right. Christine was not afraid of him anymore. In fact, she was constantly going on about how talented he was and how much she owed him. Although she was careful not to do it in front of her fiancée.

"Where are we going?" Carlotta asked, trying to keep up with his excited pace.

"I want you to help me choose an engagement ring. I need your opinion, I don't want to buy the woman I love something she won't like."

"Then you should have dragged Christine with you to pick it." She said a bit sourly.

She was glad she was his friend… with benefits. But there were certain things she preferred not getting involved in. 'Christine worshipping' was one of them.

"I thought about bringing her but I decided it would be better if it was you." He replied merrily, pulling her with him across the street. "If things go the way I hope they will, I'm thinking of going to Italy after the wedding. The way you described it, I really want to see the country."

So on top of all he was thinking of leaving. Well, it would probably be for the better. And at least she would get rid of Christine this way too.

They entered the jeweler's shop and she reluctantly walked along the line of rings.

"If I was Christine…"

"You're not Christine." He interrupted impatiently. "You can't think like Christine, so don't even try. Just tell me which one you like, I'm sure it will do the trick."

She shot him an indignant look, slightly offended by his abruptness. She decided to let it pass. He was too excited to notice how he was acting so what was the point of getting offended? He wouldn't even register it; all he thought about was Christine.

She focused on the rings again. She was certain Christine would pick something simple and unpretentious but, well, he had asked for her opinion. Her gaze fell on a sparkling star-shaped diamond ring. So what if it was big? He could afford it. And you could never go wrong with diamonds.

He looked over her shoulder to see what she was looking at and grinned widely.

"Yes, I thought so too. We're taking it."

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"**It must have been awful – helping the man you loved choose a ring for another woman."**

"**I surprised even myself then. I realized that faced with the choice between him being happy and me triumphing over Christine Daae in every aspect, I would rather have the first option. If he really loved her there was no way for me to win. And I wouldn't get in their way just for the sake of revenge. It wasn't even her fault."**

"**Very wise."**

"**Very unnatural for me. But they say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Of course, it is best to have loved and won."**

"**But it doesn't always happen."**

"**No, not always. Not for everyone. Only for some very lucky people…"**

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New Year's Eve came faster than Carlotta would have preferred. She considered not attending the party but she could not miss the scandal that was at hand, could she?

Yes, she could but a potential show was not the real reason why she felt she had to go. She had to know Christine's answer. She secretly hoped and at the same time feared that she would say no. Being publicly rejected would be humiliating to Erik but it would leave the possibility open for continuing their little rendezvous… Unless he fell back into maniacal depression. She hoped they had left those days in the past.

Her relationship with Piangi had simply faded away when the one with Eric had begun but he was ready to accompany her to the party. Good old Piangi. She had to remember to repay him some day. He was one of her few friends.

She scanned the room absently but she had suspected from the beginning that Erik wouldn't be there when they arrived. He couldn't simply walk through the door, it wasn't his style. It had to be more dramatic.

Just like she had predicted, it wasn't until the middle of the evening when he finally appeared at the top of the staircase, causing every head in the hall to turn towards him.

_Show-off_, she thought.

"Good evening." He said with a wide gesture at the crowd.

There were a few murmurs of 'good evening' as a response.

"Ah, we were wondering where you were!" Firmin greeted him merrily, a glass of champagne in his hand and a much bigger portion of the drink already in his system.

"Forgive me for the interruption, good Messers. I will only take a few minutes of your time. I have come here tonight to make a proposal."

Carlotta's heart was beating faster than normal and she realized she was holding her breath. She could have prayed if she had any idea what she was supposed to be praying for. From the corner of her eye she noticed Raoul wrap his hands protectively around Christine.

Erik however wasn't even looking in their direction. He walked down the marble steps… towards where she stood. He stopped in front of her.

"You told me once that great love happened by chance and I had to learn to live first so I would be ready for it. You were right and I am more grateful than I can say for the chance which led you to me. You didn't stop until you forced me to make a real life for myself. You showed me what it was to fight not for the one thing I wanted but for everything I needed to have a place in the world. And I believe I'm ready now. So if you love me, if you think that what I have to offer is enough for you… I would like you to be my wife."

The hall gasped when he took out the star-shaped diamond ring, then fell into shocked silence.

Choking on tears that were threatening to spill, Carlotta only managed to nod and offer her hand so he could place the ring on her finger. Then she threw herself on his neck.

"I've been hopelessly and completely impractically in love with you for months now, did you know that?" she whispered.

"I couldn't be sure." He whispered back. "Turns out you're not such a bad actress after all."

"Well, now you know..."

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"**Why did you stop?"**

**She looked at him in confusion.**

"**It's the end of the story."**

"**No, it isn't."**

"**Well, it's the best place to stop. Everything else is a whole new story and it's still being written. I don't intend for it to end anywhere in the near future. Or at all."**

"**I still think you missed a vital part."**

"**And what is it?"**

"**What happened after the party?"**

**She burst into laughter.**

"**Oh, that. Yes. Well, I thought it would be more effective if I showed you instead of telling you. Are you up for a reenactment?"**

**He looked at her innocently.**

"**But, madam, I thought we were rehearsing!"**

"**Oh, shut up and kiss me, Erik! The gala is tonight. If I haven't gotten it right by now, I never will."**

**He laughed and stood from the piano to wrap his arms around her waist.**

"**You have it right. In fact, you are perfect."**

"**How perfect?"**

"**Better than Christine could ever hope to be. She never had your spirit."**

**A warm breeze blew in from the open window. Outside spring had settled over the world, quiet and unnoticed and suddenly everything seemed lighter and prettier. Softer. **

_**Fin**_


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